


Twisted, Tied Up, Terrified

by tjstar



Series: you look like death [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Investigations, Kidnapping, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Missions Gone Wrong, No Incest, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Canon, Sexual Harassment, Sibling Bonding, let klaus have french braids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:27:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24322003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjstar/pseuds/tjstar
Summary: A new drug takes lives of a few local junkies. Klaus always wanted to work as an undercover agent.He’s got a good backup, right?
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Eudora Patch, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: you look like death [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739590
Comments: 21
Kudos: 307





	Twisted, Tied Up, Terrified

“Kraken? It’s Seance, can you hear me?”

“I’m sitting right next to you.”

Klaus pouts and lays the walkie-talkie back on the table.

“Whatever.”

He’s bored, and Diego is about to get involved into yet another _situation._ A trouble. A mischief. Klaus is ready to create an empathic miracle while Diego keeps pacing across the boiler room nervously. 

“She doesn’t let me enter the crime scene!”

A knife gets stuck in the wall, making a chipped plastering peel off. Klaus doesn’t bat an eye.

“I wouldn’t have let you, either. You’re too choleric to be a cop, hermano.”

As a rather short-tempered guy, Diego is not the one to spill his heart out. But when Eudora doesn’t want to listen to his ranting anymore, Klaus comes to rescue. Just like now. Diego and Eudora have had yet another fight over some mysterious case, just because their theories didn’t match. Or maybe it was just Diego throwing a Stereotypical Bad Guy out of the window; poor dude, he sprained his neck, Dave said. Klaus felt bad for both Diego and that loser, but he couldn’t stop laughing. 

Maybe it’s one of his moral barriers.

“I’m trying to get some information from Beeman,” Diego says. “It’s a drug-dealing case, and I thought…”

Klaus claps his hands. 

“Gotcha!”

“Indeed.”

Diego takes the knife out of the wall just to throw it again, hitting the same spot and widening the hole. 

“So,” Klaus lights up a cigarette. “You need me and apparently _my powers_ so your sweet Eudora won’t kick you out of her office?”

Diego glares at him.

“And since Dave and I are… Living together now, and he’s her partner, he could’ve said a word or two for you, right?..” Klaus winks at him. Diego is clearly falling for her. So when Diego doesn’t respond, Klaus takes it as a _yes._ “Holy shit, it’s so cute!”

Now Ben glares at him too. Klaus is a shitty therapist, but come on, he’s got his hands chock full — the ghosts keep torturing him with their wailing daily and nightly, _помоги нам, we know you can understand us!_

They look at him through the smoke he exhales. _HELLO, Mr. I Never Buckle Up, the side of your skull looks just fine! And the other side is… Gone. GOODBYE._

It’s been three months of his Sobriety Marathon — Dave says he’s proud of him, he really is; even on those bad days when Klaus spirals down into depression, when he is too weak to even attend his NA group. And Klaus would’ve said that _trying_ to stay sober is a disgusting process, especially when you know where to get the stuff, how to _pay_ for that. Sobriety is demotivating, he would’ve said too. He’s just way too dedicated. Just like the ones who paint his dreams the darkest shade of black. Klaus still feels jittery from time to time, but the collection of chips from his NA meetings is growing. The amount of the ghosts around him keeps growing too. He started to meditate to make them shut up, to soothe his mind. His method is not perfect, but Dave is here to hold his hand, to tell him that he’s doing his best.

“You’re better at it now, right?” 

God, Diego is persistent. 

Klaus shrugs. 

“I can conjure Ben.”

“Yeah I know. But… The case they’re working on…”

Dave mentioned it just once not to trigger him. Klaus takes another drag.

“A Killer Injection Case?”

Diego nods.

“They found a new drug in the victims’ blood, and…”

“A new?” Klaus drops the cigarette into an ashtray. “What’s so _new_ about it?”

“We’re waiting for the autopsy report.”

Klaus chuckles.

“Sure. Good luck.”

It’s not safe for his fragile state of mind, but well, staying alone in the mausoleum when he was a kid wasn’t safe either. And the drug addicts who injected themselves with that weird drug can’t testify without his help. Maybe Klaus would’ve been one of those bodies in the morgue already if he’d kept using. Who knows, who knows.

“I don’t want you to end up like them,” Ben says. 

“Nice try, Bentacle! Or you just think I’m gonna fall back into my old habits as soon as I see a needle?”

“No, I don’t.”

Over the years of doing drugs Klaus learned one thing: his body is much stronger than he used to think. He’d overdosed more than once, he had flatlined in the ambulance cars, and he had seen those black and white visions while his system had been turned off. _HELLO, Little Girl On A Bike, why do you hate me so much? Oh, you don’t wanna talk to me? GOODBYE._

It was one of his worst comedowns. He felt terrible when he woke up, which only meant that he was still alive. 

Staying alive with Dave is a blessing. 

Staying sober for the dead is a curse. 

He doesn’t see the ones he needs — it seems that Diego only contacts him when it comes to junkies, as if he still thinks that Klaus might be one of the corpses.

Diego raises his eyebrow.

“So?”

“I’m in,” Klaus really doesn’t care. Eudora can still lock him in a prison for his old crimes if she wants. “But I don’t know how to communicate with them.”

His dealers are still probably looking for him in the alleys and rave clubs. And Klaus is not sure for how long he can keep staying invisible while his _potential friends_ are dying one by one. He wants to grab the biggest scissors and severe the ties with his nasty past. He’s moving forward, this is what he keeps saying to himself. This is what Dave keeps saying. 

Klaus really wants to help.

Diego is satisfied as he hears that.

“We’re going to Eudora tomorrow.”

***

Eudora is not happy to see Diego and Klaus together again. She folds her arms over her chest when Diego stutters, trying to explain _why_ the police is just a bunch of amateurs. _Except for you, Dora._ Klaus can’t tell if he’s proud or ashamed of his brother.

“Basically, Diego wants me to talk to the spirits. Again,” he slams the Ouija board on the table. “Well, I’m using this thing when the ghosts get way too reluctant.” 

The fact that he’s gonna do that in Eudora and Dave’s office makes everything even more surreal. Dave polishes his glasses on the sleeve of his shirt, nervously, on the brink of breaking them. 

“I thought you and Ben were going to stay home.”

“And then we didn’t,” Klaus looks at Ben although no one can see him yet. “This day is full of surprises!” he squeezes the planchette in his hands. “I’m waiting for a crystal ball joke.”

He’s waiting for it in vain. 

“They don’t get it,” Ben mutters, but Klaus cuts him off with a GOODBYE. 

“Should I have started with how terrible Diego’s flirting is? My apologies, Eudora, my family’s always been… Sorta dysfunctional. I mean, look at me and Dave!..”

“Klaus,” Diego’s tone is a pure warning. “Just do your thing already.”

“Okay, okay, brother dearest,” Klaus rolls his eyes. “It was _your_ idea. This is my chance to become a matchman, don’t you think?” this is addressed to Ben.

Dave turns away and smirks. 

“I think you better shut up,” Ben says. 

“You guys are so boring.” 

Klaus keeps babbling, because he doesn’t want to do _his thing_ — mostly because sometimes the ghosts don’t leave him alone for days after the seance, for weeks. There was one woman in her late sixties that used to watch him bathe, and he couldn’t hide from her for three days in a row. _Maybe she’s in love with you,_ Ben said. Klaus even felt bad for hurting her feelings. _Hearts are made to be broken*,_ he told her. He used to call her _Mrs. My Paramour Wanted To Get All The Inheritance._ And she just said that she couldn’t stop staring at young men even after her tragic death. It was a funny conversation, actually.

“Klaus, you…”

“Are insane? That’s not a big deal,” Klaus doesn’t let Eudora finish when the planchette begins to move in his hands. _HELLO._ How ironic.

“Is there… A connection?” Eudora sounds curious. “Do we have to like, hold each other’s hands?”

“Nah.”

God, it’s hard to focus when there’s so much humming around him. Some of the spirits are visible, some of them are not; _yes, Ms. I Like To Shout Right Into Your Ears, I know you were deaf and you couldn’t hear the gunshot that killed you. I’m sorry. GOODBYE._

Klaus knows how to translate the word _death_ into every language. And then, he doesn’t know anything. 

“Can you manifest them?” 

The planchette gets stuck on _HELLO._

“You should say more if you want me to help you,” Klaus points out. 

The planchette moves again, building a sentence _I.D.O.N.T._

“Really?”

“Are you doing this?”

“Of course not, Diego! These ghosts are just… Odd.”

 _Scared,_ he should have said. They’re scared. 

“Are you scared?” he asks.

_YES._

“You think you’re stuck here for the eternity?”

_YES._

“Because of that drug?”

_YES._

Oh, he’s got something here.

“Do you know the dealer’s name?”

_B.O.S.S._

“Is it…”

_GOODBYE._

The Ouija board is all damp underneath his sweaty palms. 

“So,” Klaus sighs. “We just have to find some Boss-guy.”

“Do you know this nickname?” Dave gently massages his tired shoulders. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

Klaus mentally flips the pages of a phonebook in his mind. 

“No, I don’t. Am I right, Ben?”

Ben probably remembers more of his contacts. Ben thinks, too, before saying,

“You’re right.”

“Well, it’s seems that somebody’s new to the town.”

“Like, a new dealer?” Eudora quickly makes a few notes. “Can you… Can you ask them if that Boss had any specific traits?”

“No, no, I can’t, I’m sorry. This one didn’t want to talk,” Klaus rubs his eyes. “I’ll try again later. Or tomorrow. Or, maybe, one of the victims is going to visit me in my nightmares,” he sniggers. “It’s gonna be so thrilling.”

Stumbling into triggers all the time is not fun. He’s seen a lot of corpses: overdosed, overused, wasted; they’re like a squall, a tidal wave of grief. He thought that the Ouija board was going to make them more talkative when he needed that, but it has just taken more of his energy. He feels like he’s spent hours upon hours at gym, boxing with Diego. He tried it once, he didn’t like it. 

Here’s the thing that keeps him concerned — _what_ or _who_ could scare the phantoms so much?

***

Two days later, Diego calls him again.

“Can I come over?”

“Yeah, sure,” Klaus looks at the clock. It’s two past midnight, he and Dave are about to go to bed. 

“Cool.”

Diego hangs up. 

Klaus enters the bedroom and flops onto the mattress next to Dave.

“Diego found something. And he’s about to visit us and spit it out.”

Dave puts his glasses on. 

“Oh. That’s come creative use of our common insomnia then?”

“Sounds like that.”

Diego comes with news — equally good and bad ones — he managed to find someone, but he couldn’t get close enough. He’s pissed at everyone, at everything that surrounds him, just dropping the facts like bombs. 

“I was hanging out in some certain alley and I heard people talk.”

“Yeah, people do that sometimes,” Klaus nods. Diego tries to remain mysterious, but Klaus cracks him open like a pro. “You found our Boss?”

“I found the ones who may know him,” Diego corrects him. 

“Now I feel ashamed,” Dave interjects from his side of the bed. “As if I made it home too soon.”

“Sorry for distracting you, dear.”

Klaus still needs to be watched, by both Dave and Ben, but the cravings don’t get him that hard anymore. He’s still aware of that though, his skin is still all itchy, and there are barely healed scratches on his arms and on his elbows. He tried a therapy, but he couldn’t handle a bunch of suicidal ghosts filling the therapist’s office. He feels safer at home. 

The phone rings again; Dave comes to answer the call, while Diego keeps asking Klaus about his dealers. Klaus knows a lot of them, but neither of them has a nickname _Boss._

“I’ll try to use… My channels,” Klaus promises. 

“Yeah, you should.” 

Diego opens his mouth to continue, but Dave enters the bedroom holding his walkie-talkie and putting the holster onto his belt. 

“Eudora called,” he says. “We got another body.”

*** 

“She lets you enter the crime scenes just like that, I’m surprised.”

“Why? Everyone loves me, Benny.” 

Klaus rubs his shoulders as he shivers, hiding behind Dave’s back as all three of — four, Ben included — them get there right in time. There are flashing red and blue lights, there’s Eudora standing next to a black body bag, looking tired. 

There are also ghosts. 

Klaus has been there before — he’s been everywhere, come on — and his mind is unprotected now. He stares at a young man with extremely curly hair and a septum piercing who stares at his own body, puzzled and confused. Klaus shoves back his fear and snaps his fingers to draw his attention.

“How are you doing, pal?”

Not the best question to start the conversation, but the guy turns to him.

“You can see me?”

“I’m talking to you right now,” Klaus looks around. Other cops apparently don’t care. Good. “How did you die? What’s your name?”

“Trevor,” he scratches his bruised arms. Klaus can relate. “I just wanted to try something new!”

“Same old song. And the next thing you knew you were… Dead? Sorry to disappoint, but this is where all the chemistry experiments get you.”

Trevor is about to cry, his lips wobble.

“So… Am I dead?” 

“You’re looking at your body wrapped up in a body bag like a Christmas gift for a coroner. This should have given you a hint or two already.”

Klaus leans his shoulder against the wall, keeping his pose as relaxed as possible. This is a thing that he’s learned: show them your dominance. They’re not seeking for the condolences anymore, they’re annoying. Be annoying for them as well — be even more annoying. Ben doesn’t support Klaus’ acting. 

“Who gave you the drug?” Ben asks. 

Trevor flinches. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Ben, and I’m dead too.” 

This doesn’t sound convincing, and Klaus laughs again, because really — he’s chilling there with cops and with his vigilante brother, what kind of routine is that? Speaking of Diego — he’s having an argument with Eudora, and Klaus gets distracted by that — they’re about to kiss, yes, yes, _ah._ Diego gets slapped across the face. 

“Aw,” Klaus presses his palms to his heart. Then he turns back to Trevor. “Have you heard of Boss?”

Trevor gives him a shaky nod. 

“My dealer… I mean, that man from the club... He was wearing sunglasses... He gave me that damn syringe, he said it was from Boss. And that it was gonna give me a fantastic experience, but,” he looks at the crooks of his elbows. “Apparently he was wrong.” 

“Well, you’re in a better world now…”

“I wish I could punch you,” Trevor mumbles. 

Klaus flashes him a smile.

“You’re not the first, not the last, _Mr. I’m Injecting Myself With Some Dubious Fluids._ ”

Whoever that Boss is, he’s working with the hands of his pawns. 

When Klaus wants to ask Trevor one more question, he’s gone. 

Well, GOODBYE.

***

“You’re not doing this.”

“But why?!”

“Because it’s dangerous!”

“I used to go to missions when I was a kid, you know,” Klaus gives Dave an eloquent glance. 

Diego smirks.

“You were the lookout.”

“Yes, and Ben wasn’t, and look at him now!”

“Low blow,” Ben’s fist flies through Klaus’ ribs, making his insides freeze. 

“No offence, bro.”

There’s a meeting at Dave’s house again, all four of them plus Ben.

Klaus wants to end this discussion already — he’s just offered Dave and Diego to get back on the streets as an undercover agent and find all the information they need. And, of course, there’s an endless flow of “you can’t do that” and all those _what ifs._ What if they get you? What if? What if? But the truth is, they just think that he’s about to fall back into his drug habit as soon as he falls off the grid. It upsets him, he’s utterly frustrated — after all of those years when his own family had called him useless he wants to help. Mostly because he wants that bitch who sells death at the clubs to get arrested.

“It’s illegal,” Eudora says. “And I hate it, but it might work.”

“What?” Diego snaps.

Dave echoes,

“What?”

Eudora looks at Klaus before continuing,

“We just have to admit that Klaus knows what he’s talking about, and his… Abilities and his _experience_ might help us. We can give him all the equipment and guide him through it.”

“After all the shit he’s been through?”

“Ouch,” Klaus squeezes Dave’s hand. “I can do that without relapsing. One night of clubbing just to find our Boss? Phew! You are gonna be listening to everything what I’m saying, what I’m doing,” he keeps his voice low. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

Dave protests,

“They can hurt you.”

“Ghosts are hurting me too, all the time. Mentally.”

They’re still here, no matter how hard he tries to build a brick wall around himself. He can still hear a choir in his head when his eyes are closed. But he wants to use his powers anyway; all the spies get all that funny electronics, right? He’s a good liar, and he’s got some reputation on the streets — not the best one, but it’s gonna feel natural. 

Dave says,

“It’s a terrible idea.”

“I know,” Klaus nods. “But we don’t have time to wait.”

The ghosts in bloodied fatigues agree with him.

***

Klaus is excited to test the equipment, to use their codenames for the first time since their childhood. He hated them when he was a kid, but now he thinks it’s quite funny.

“Kraken, Kraken, it’s Seance, can you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine. Over.”

Klaus rubs his palms as they keep sweating and smiles at Ben to encourage him since he’s a part of the operation as well. They are _almost_ ready to go and fight the crime. Maybe Klaus’ leather skirt is a little too short, mid-thigh, but he’s got a pepper spray and a walkie-talkie in his purse, he’s got a voice recorder and a tiny mic clipped to the inner pocket of his jacket. His combat boots are heavy enough to smash somebody’s balls, and his top is eccentrically tight and glittery. This look was his own idea, his best fashion decision, a disguise of fanciness and vulgarity. He even let Eudora make four French braids not to let anyone grab him by his curls just in case. Klaus looks at the mirror and sighs: his eyeliner is not smudged, lip gloss isn’t smeared. Just like those good old times.

Ben is wearing black. Ben doesn’t have a reflection.

“You can stop if this triggers you.”

And Klaus says,

“I’m a diva.”

Getting all that equipment was not easy, and now Klaus is responsible for its safety. It’s all planned up, Dave and Eudora are going to coordinate him from their car, and Diego is gonna keep the distance to watch him. _Klaus is not going to relapse._ They will not let him. It’s getting dark when Klaus finally leaves the bedroom and goes downstairs where Dave is waiting for him; Dave has never seen him wear _his nicest outfit_ before. 

“Well,” Klaus bites the tip of his tongue when Dave’s jaw drops. “Please, don’t think I’m _that_ kinky. I just want… To strike them down. Didn’t have time to shave also.”

He presses his black and golden purse to his chest when Diego and Eudora exchange glances. Neither of them believes that it’s gonna work — a certain vibe of mistrust keeps soaring in the air — and Klaus got just one night to prove them wrong. Dave hugs him, somewhat platonically, whispering _be careful_ into his ear. Klaus nods, but his heart tries to break his ribs. They’re gonna look after him, it’s okay. He’s never been this determined — on the sober side, he’s gonna think rationally. So it’s just gonna be a good adventure and also a good test for his mind. 

“Let’s go,” Diego commands, going to the front door. “We got some asses to kick.” 

Ben gives him a thumb-up.

*** 

Wandering the streets sober is the ordeal. Klaus follows Diego’s route, ducking into narrow alleyways until he finds a club Diego was talking about. He knows this one, full of neon lights and sweaty bodies; Klaus sneaks inside and listens. It’s hard to detect the words, and _HELLO, Mr. Dead Party Animal, popping all the pills at once is not a good idea, believe me, GOODBYE._

Ghosts never dance. 

Klaus orders a glass of water and chats with the bartender; just some casual themes, and _“nah, I’m good, I don’t need vodka on the house. I’m not that heartbroken.”_ The bartender grins as Klaus takes a sip. Ben sits on the bar stool next to him, barely managing to jump up not to let a man flop down right into him. He’s not a ghost, he’s wearing a suit and some expensive cologne — Klaus can smell it when the man leans closer to him. His eyes are covered with the sunglasses despite the dim lights. 

“Are you workin’, baby?”

Klaus tries his best to relax without alcohol in his system.

“Are you offering?” he murmurs.

He’s recording their conversation, the mic in his coat is turned on; the quality is gonna be terrible because of the music pounding from the speakers. It’s a full-blown rave for the broke ones, a torture for Klaus since he doesn’t have any drugs to soften the sound waves hitting his eardrums. 

“Can I get somethin’ for ya?”

“What?”

“Are you interested?”

Klaus thinks for a moment, then looks at Ben who shakes his head. This may be the beginning of their mission, and the sunglasses man doesn’t look like a junkie at all; from what Klaus sees, he can tell that Mr. Sunglasses never used anything stronger than cough syrup.

“I want to try something new,” Klaus winks at him. “If you know what I mean.”

The smell of the cologne gets stronger, even for Klaus’ cocaine-burnt receptors. Mr. Sunglasses invades into his personal space and coos,

“I know.”

His hand is placed on Klaus’ knee, but Klaus can’t pull away from him; he needs to get a better recording of his voice. The air is hot, but Klaus’ skin crawls; it’s almost like a withdrawal, maybe even worse. The man’s desires are as clear as day, and the ghosts keep glaring daggers at Klaus. They’re judging him, Ben is judging him.

“Wait a sec,” Klaus says with a wide smile, then sliding off the stool and heading towards the restrooms. He’s always been good at finding the drugs like a well-trained police dog, and Sunglasses —

Sunglasses keeps following him, step to step until he enters the restroom; _call for help,_ Ben says, and Klaus shakes his head to gather his thoughts. It’s not safe while he’s being watched and haunted. 

“So?” the man leans against the tiled wall. “Get down on your knees. I’m waiting.” 

Klaus can hear his heart beating in tact with the music muffled by these white walls. 

“I kinda… Changed my minds.”

Klaus rubs his throat so hard it’s burning up, and _yes, Ms. I Strangled Myself Because Of A Heartbreak, I know how bad that’s gonna hurt._

“You what?”

“I’m—”

“Klaus!”

He’s lucky enough to duck his head and not to receive a punch in his jaw; he’s lucky enough to push the man away and kick him in the hip, winning a few seconds to leave the restroom. He rummages in his purse on his way to the exit, he’s ready to report that he’s definitely found at least one suspicious creep at this club. Klaus is wading through the crowd, gasping for breath as the living and the dead ones press down on him, steal his oxygen. Walkie-talkie falls on the floor with a clattering sound as Klaus feels a slight pinch at the side of his neck.

At first, he’s too pumped to even understand what happened. He can still hear Ben scream and holler, but Klaus’ tongue is too heavy to respond.

And then, he falls into a rabbit hole of high.

*** 

He wakes up in a coffin, buried alive and alone, and he thinks _oh shit, oh fuck._ He’s panicking, his mind is a Jenga and the stress keeps kicking the bricks out of the tower of his mental stability.

“It’s not a coffin,” Klaus whispers. 

Coffin would’ve been more comfortable to lay inside, probably. His knees are pressed to his chest, and his wrists are taped together behind his back. Everything is shaking, he can smell gas and dust, and he chokes — he’s inside of a car trunk. His ribs hurt as the vehicle jumps up on a pothole, and Klaus wonders whether the driver is sober or not. He can’t fight back a loud yelp as his head hits the top of the trunk, his body shudders as the car stops. 

The trunk opens. 

Klaus just wants to breathe, but the only thing he gets is another injection that pulls him back into the slumber. 

***

He doesn’t hear the ghosts when he opens his eyes again — he feels lonely with no Ben in sight. He’s sore all over, his joints crack and pop as he jerks himself upright. The chair he’s sitting on is uncomfortable, and his arms are pinned behind his back, taped to the back of a chair. His shoulders are numb, his neck is rigid as he tries to look around. His jacket is gone along with his equipment, along with his purse. The coldness of the concrete floor creeps under his skirt, making his legs shake. 

“Oh, he’s awake.”

Klaus is surrounded with three men in seconds, walking around, touching his shoulders and his face, and he’s far too woozy to perform a proper speech so he just starts to laugh. It’s painful as if the skin on his chest is peeling off and his lungs are full of water — he’s high, he can’t control it. One of his kidnappers smacks him across his cheek. Klaus spews out a few more hysterical giggles. 

“What are you laughing at?”

There’s nothing good about this tone. Klaus waits for the ringing in his ears to subside before responding,

“I don’t know where to start,” his eyes are all teary as he blinks. “My father is a billionaire, and my sisters is a famous Hollywood actress, and you know what? They wouldn’t have given you a single dollar bill even if you had sent my chopped off pinky their way.”

He knows it’s gonna piss them off. They’re not covering their faces even. They’re angry, pushing him around along with the chair. They’re wearing classic suits, one of them has a scar on his tanned face, another one’s got tattoos on his neck and the third one is wearing sunglasses — this is the man Klaus met at the club. Klaus makes some mental notes, trying to keep their psychological portraits in mind, but mostly, he’s too high to care.

“How the hell he’s still alive after that dose?” Tattooed Neck asks.

Sunglasses replies,

“I don’t know, Boss.”

Oh. Boss. Klaus would’ve laughed again if his ribs hadn’t hurt so badly. Boss turns the chair to the light.

“Are you a cop?” 

“No comprendo,” Klaus says. “I can barely remember my own name at this point, try again later, sweetie.”

Of course, he shouldn’t have said that. 

Of course, he has a hunch why the side of his head gets wet and sticky. 

“Remembered anything?”

“No offence, but you’re not helping,” Klaus bites back. “My last chakra closed up.”

He focuses on his breathing, he needs Ben’s support; his facade is gonna crumble down along with the high, and he’s lost the count of time already. Boss cracks his knuckles again. Klaus doesn’t move a muscle. The rings on Boss’ fingers are gonna tear the skin on his face to shreds. 

“We can test the new formula on you since you’re so resistant to drugs. I’m gonna let you think about your behavior, little bitch,” Boss suddenly says. “While you’re thinking though, me and my boys are gonna play poker, and I think it would be fair _to gift you_ to the winner.”

There are dragons and flames tattooed all over his throat; Klaus wishes they would choke him.

 _“What?_ Like, a _slave?_ I’m not gonna be your or anyone’s slave, have you ever heard of human rights, moron?”

Klaus doesn’t even get punched for that, groaning desperately as his kidnappers turn away from him, sitting down at the table in the corner of the basement. The lamps on the ceiling aren’t bright enough, and Klaus has to squint his eyes all the time to get a better look at Boss and his sidekicks. They are smoking even more than him on his bad — nervous — days. From what Klaus can understand, they’re playing Texas Hold ‘em, and probably, Klaus’ life has never been this valuable. He rocks in the chair, trying to free his wrists or his ankles tied to the chair legs. 

“Bad idea.”

“Ben?” Klaus flinches. “Thank God, Ben!”

Despite his usual badass facial expression, Klaus can spot a wave of relief spreading across Ben’s face. 

“You should try and manifest me when you’ve sobered up enough.”

“Yeah, good point.” 

Due to the last blow in the head, Klaus can barely hear himself — and his tormentors can hear him clearly.

“Who are you talking to?”

Klaus gets dragged across the floor by the front of his top. The face with the scar should terrify him, but the bubble of high around him hasn’t been popped yet. _He’s the only one who survived after taking the drug, they need him for their experiments, they’re not gonna kill him —_

“Oh, you know, I’ve been reciting William Shakespeare to get the blood flowing. Listen to this one: Lord, what fools these mortals be!” he yells right into Scar’s face.

A fist hits his nose with a sickening squelch. 

“Shut the fuck up!” 

Klaus swallows, blood trickles down his throat, and grins again. He can’t give them satisfaction. Not even when there’s a barrel of a gun pressed to his lips, oily and black; Klaus licks it, sucking the tip slightly. There’s probably a neon sign IDIOT floating right above his head; it’s so bold of him to think that he can’t die like that. 

Scar grumbles,

“You’re such a trouble.”

“Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!” a puzzled glance is all he gets. Klaus rolls his eyes. “You don’t wanna join my poetry club? Come on, it’s _Macbeth!_ Did you know you can read the books instead of wiping your ass?”

Being smarter than your opponent is never an advantage. So when Scar puts a piece of tape over Klaus’ mouth, he still can’t understand whether he’s losing or winning.

***

Poker chips remind him of the ones from his NA meetings — they’re multicolored and useless. He’s never been a gambler though. He used to do some other things to survive. 

“They’re coming for you,” Ben comforts him. “I bet Dave and Diego are on their way already.”

Klaus shrugs. His left ear is half deaf and throbbing, his nose is full of fresh and congealed blood, copper taste makes him feel queasy. He doesn’t want to choke on his own vomit in front of them, he doesn’t want Dave to find him like _this._ Dave. Klaus doesn’t dare even imagine what the winner is going to do to him, and what if —

What if he’s gonna be handling all of this alone?

It’s stupid. He’s stupid. 

They keep playing. 

Klaus can’t manifest Ben, and just screws his eyes shut when Boss shoves his hand under his skirt, whispering into his uninjured ear _good boy._ Klaus wants to sob, wants to curse and knock this man’s teeth out one by one. But he can’t move, he can’t even spit out another sarcastic comment. 

“I’m winning,” Boss says. “And then I’ll fuck you into the mattress like a cheap whore.”

 _Who told you that I’m cheap?_ Klaus would have said. _Mh-m,_ Klaus says. 

They leave him alone for a while. 

Klaus tries to move his leg, to loosen the ties. He rocks in the chair harder and hears a slight cracking noise; Klaus lurches to the side, his brain can’t register the fall until his left shoulder and his left hip smack against the concrete, he can only lift one leg now. He’s lying there breathless as the man with the flames and dragons on his neck shouts _I won,_ and the others are booing and slamming their fists on the table. Klaus squirms on the floor when Boss approaches him and squats down.

“You’re mine now,” he informs. Klaus shakes his head mostly to keep himself awake. He’s cold and all his bones ache. There is a glass of whiskey in Boss’ hand; then he takes a baggie of pills out of his pocket. Shakes three of them into the glass, swirling the liquid with his finger and watching them dissolve. “Bottoms up,” he says somewhat cheerfully, ripping the tape off Klaus’ bloodied lips.

“I’m not gon—”

His lying position makes him even more helpless, because there’s too many hands on him, pinning him down and forcing his mouth open. The liquid pours inside while he chokes and gags, managing to hold it in his mouth without swallowing. It burns the cuts on his lips, skin torn and busted, and he wants to gulp a spiked drink down like a painkiller. There are only the fragments of the pictures flashing in front of his eyes, a kick in his stomach makes him curl into a fetal pose. Klaus is so out of everything he doesn’t understand why Scar suddenly falls behind him; he _does_ understand what’s going on when he notices a dagger slicing the air right above his ear. Klaus doesn’t lose a second before spitting the whiskey out right into Boss’ face, then kicking him in the groin so hard he can swear he hears his testicles burst in his pants. 

The door breaks.

“Hold your hands up! You are arrested!”

Klaus nearly snaps his neck to get a glimpse of Dave, Eudora and Diego along with some other officers storm into the basement. 

“He’s here! Klaus, hold on, hold on!”

Diego cuts the tape on his wrists and throws a broken chair away; Dave shines a flashlight in Klaus’ eyes, and Klaus can only wheeze out a “I didn’t want that.”

“I know, love, I know,” Dave whispers, hugging him and helping him stand up. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

He’s gonna get attacked by a herd of ghosts at the hospital. Local ones don’t even know they’re dead. 

“No, no, please. I’m fine. Just a little dizzy. They injected me with… Whatever it was.”

Klaus whimpers, dragging his leg across the floor; Dave holds him upright, breathing heavily. Klaus drops his head onto Dave’s shoulder as the stress wears off.

“We tracked you down by the GPS capsule inserted into the sole of your boot.”

One more tricky trick. Klaus didn’t know about that, but he’s grateful. This is the moment when he realizes how terrified he is. Dave is pale, and his hands are shaking as he helps Klaus get out of the basement and into the night. The wind is chilly, and Dave leads him to an open door of the ambulance car parked a few feet away from yet another crime scene. The paramedics give him a blanket, and Klaus throws it over his shoulders while they keep checking him, taking his blood again. He’s sure that they already know he’s a drug addict, and the only thing he’s afraid of is that both Dave and Eudora might ruin their career while helping him. 

“It’s gonna be okay, dear,” says a middle-aged woman with kind brown eyes and braids similar to his. “Did they harass you?”

“I’m not a prostitute,” Klaus feels the need to clarify. 

“I know, dear, I know,” she coos, dabbing the blood off his ear with a cotton pad. “Your eardrum has been ruptured,” then she touches the bridge of his swollen nose. “Not broken.” 

He just nods blankly, watching Boss, Scar and Sunglasses being shoved in the police cars. Klaus can’t tell if he’s fully sober now, he’s skipped a disgusting comedown somehow. But he doesn’t see any ghosts except for Ben — and Ben is silent. 

“They tried to give me more drugs, but I refused,” Klaus utters for both Ben and that paramedic woman to hear him. “Maybe I have a chance.”

Diego leaves after doing his vigilante thing. Klaus still can’t move; he keeps staring at Dave signing the papers along with Eudora. 

Klaus doesn’t want to fall back into the void.

*** 

The whole police department looks at him as if he’s a scientific miracle. He was injected with that mysterious drug that killed those junkies, and he survived, although the dose was far too strong, and the lab workers couldn’t find an explanation for that. 

“Maybe it’s because he’s one of those Umbrella kids?” Klaus hears one of the officers say.

 _Maybe,_ Klaus thinks, _maybe._

*** 

Dave and Eudora don’t lose their jobs. Klaus can swear that Diego and Eudora even got somehow closer after their common adventure; well, Klaus suffered for their love then. They even manage to get their equipment back, and Boss and his sidekicks are gonna spend a huge amount of very exciting years in prison. Dead drug addicts throw a little party even. Klaus hasn’t seen _them_ since that. Their message has been received and their order has been fulfilled. Klaus sees a lot of the others: men, women, kids, whole families sometimes. But they’re getting… Calmer. Almost as nice as Ben, letting him use the bathroom alone, scaring him just occasionally. 

The spirits don’t bother him and Dave now, when Klaus takes a bath and Dave takes care of his hair. It’s almost relaxing, but their conversation makes Klaus tense up. 

“I’m not gonna let you do anything like that ever again,” Dave swears, massaging Klaus’ scalp as the bubble hat on his head grows. “I almost let you die.”

Klaus closes his eyes not to let the shampoo and tears eat them away.

“But I didn’t die.”

Dave still feels guilty, Klaus can feel it in his every move, in his every word — Dave says he’s incredibly glad that Klaus still hasn’t broken up with him. And Klaus replies with _“I will never leave you, Mein Liebster.”_

And of course,

Dave believes. 

The ghosts fall silent.

**Author's Note:**

> *oscar wilde
> 
> i don’t know anything about poker. yay.
> 
> also i’m not trying to name all of the OCs to make them look more like villains™ from comics idek  
> \---  
> thanks for reading! comments are very appreciated~


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